


heart-shaped bruises

by moonshinelouis



Series: canon-ish [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshinelouis/pseuds/moonshinelouis
Summary: Harry navigates insecurities with the constant support of Louis.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: canon-ish [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663732
Comments: 21
Kudos: 199
Collections: One Direction





	heart-shaped bruises

**Author's Note:**

> **you do not need to read the other works in this series.**
> 
> thanks [emma](https://essercipertuttienonperse.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing, ilysm!!! title from "toothpaste kisses" by the maccabees. i listened to [songs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/66FKcQZez9dbi5UnG7FtFq?si=8UrxtVWoR5qbOVNlXcmqEA) people recommended to me on [tumblr](https://moonshinelouis.tumblr.com/post/613598351029600256/heart-shaped-bruises-by-moonshinelouis-mature) ♡ 

Harry doesn’t care about what people think. Well, for the most part – there are still some things he wouldn’t do, things like wearing nail varnish and makeup, things he’s tried in the darkness of night under dim lights, quiet, barely moving a muscle, trying to listen to the movements within the house, jump-scared with a single creak of the floorboards, sweating cold and thick and washing it all out not a minute later. He knows his parents and his boyfriend would be fine knowing he does that, deep down, logically, he knows, but he just _can’t,_ just thinking about it – about showing up with his nails done, even in the lightest skin-tone shade – makes his pressure lower, his legs wobble, and he has to sit down. 

Harry _wishes_ he didn’t care about what people think. 

Loads of people think he doesn’t – he jokes around, after all, all fake-ease at exposing his flamboyance and commenting about wearing dresses or skirts or heels, and he doesn’t care about being a romantic, doesn’t care that everyone knows he wants kids and to be sappy. He’s not so interested in makeup, but nail varnish is always _there,_ in his mother’s room or his sister’s, doubling when her friends come over, and it’s so silly; it’s just colourful nails, but it feels like more. It feels heavy when he sneaks into her bedroom at night, grabbing the first bottle he can find, and hides in the bathroom, trembling as he brushes the paint over his nails, thick and cold, shaking so much that it gets on the skin around his nails – but as heavy as it feels, it’s freeing, somehow; it lightens his chest.

He was all _fine_ while keeping it a secret, even when he moved in with Louis and there was no more nail varnish to hunt at night; he didn’t really crave for it anyway – he kind of thought he’d healed, as sick as that is – but now his secret is out. Louis knows.

Louis, so wonderful, always looking out for Harry – he saw Harry’s discomfort, he saw how he clammed up, stuttered, all nervous, so unlike himself; he saw it all happen, and he saw why, too: nail varnish. In front of everyone, the interviewer grabbed out a bottle and tried to convince him to put it on, and he froze; his fists closed all on their own and all he could say was _no, no, no,_ only one word, one breath at a time. Louis jumped, fake-teasing him for being so dramatic about it but underneath the sass he touched Harry kindly, silently telling him _it’s okay, I’m here, don’t be embarrassed._ Telling him that “painted nails make Harry beautiful,” brushing his thumbs on the inside of his wrist, trying to make him laugh and relax by making silly comments and attacking his nipples. 

It worked; Harry giggled and relaxed into Louis, even complimented the colour. He could hardly focus on it at first, too worried trying to _breathe,_ too worried trying to understand _why_ he was so bothered. Only later, when he’s alone at last, can he finally appreciate the glittery varnish softening his nails, making them thick and smooth and pretty, though he still gets dizzy at the thought of going out like that, of keeping the varnish on. But there’s no time to take it off; he ends up spending the whole day with it, and eventually the thought drifts out of his mind as he gets used to the feeling.

He’s only reminded later, cuddling at home, when Louis brings it up again: laying kisses on his neck, nuzzling his hair, sighing on his ear, he takes Harry’s hand and laces their fingers, kissing a final kiss right beside Harry’s ear, and whispers: “Your nails look really pretty.”

Harry curls his fingers, hiding them from view. He’d forgotten about his nails.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, cuddling impossibly closer, Harry’s back completely plastered to his front, pressing his hands to his hips now. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, a bit too fast. “I just don’t like it.” He closes his eyes and pretends he’s sleepy.

Louis is quiet, but in a heavy way that weighs on top of Harry. “Baby,” he mutters, hugging Harry’s torso and kissing his shoulder. “I love you no matter what, you know that, right? I love you however you are.”

Harry hugs into himself, curling into a smaller form. He can’t look. 

Louis gets up, putting all his weight on his arms, one on each side of Harry, and his legs, around his hips, and looks down at him expectantly. “Baby, look at me.”

Harry sighs but turns on his back, exasperated and desperate to just cry, maybe. Hell if he knows. 

Louis leans on his shins and takes Harry’s hands – tremulous – and kisses his fingers, each one, and then the top of his hand until Harry’s smiling involuntarily. He kisses his belly, still holding his hands delicately by Harry’s sides; he kisses around his belly button, which makes him giggle and his stomach balloon, unflattering, but he kisses Harry’s discomfort away. He kisses down his pelvis, even though it’s flat and odd-looking, and he kisses his thighs. He kisses his way back up, tonguing at his extra nipples and his legitimate ones, which makes Harry whimper and kick and tighten his grip on Louis’ hands and bite the inside of his lip and makes Louis chuckle airily around his pec. 

He finally comes face-to-face with Harry and touches their foreheads, weight on his lower-arm flat on the bed. “Hi,” he whispers, smiling. 

“Hi,” Harry giggles back. 

Louis turns more serious. “I’m not joking around, Harry. I love you. I love every part of you. And–” he swallows and bites his lip, suddenly morose. He’s still holding Harry’s hands, now to his sides, keeping him still, when he nuzzles his face into his neck. “And I saw how you looked at your nails, my love, I see how you look at things,” he whispers into Harry’s neck, voice cracking, hoarse, emotional. “And I want you to know it’s okay. It’s always okay. Be whoever you are – I’ll still love you.” He kisses his cheek – “I’ll always love you.”

They fall asleep like that, tangled in each other, cherry words hanging above Harry like stars. 

♡

Harry wakes up ticklish. The white hotel sheets are pooled at his navel, the sunlight brushing through the curtains and falling in shapes on the bed, and Louis is looking at him mischievously. 

Harry grumbles. Louis locks their legs together under the duvet, breathing hot and airy against Harry’s skin.

“Wha’ d’you do?” Harry mumbles, voice thick and hoarse with sleep. He snuggles his pillow and closes his eyes again, too sleepy not to, instantly falling in a cloudy slumber though his heart beats fast from the scare. He barely registers the lips on his skin, mouthing at his collar bone, at his neck, at his shoulders, until Louis bites slightly, just a little more than a graze of his teeth. Harry groans, a sucker for pain but too sleepy at the moment, and puts a hand to Louis’ chest, flicking at his nipple, which effectively makes him jump away laughing. 

“Stop it,” he says, smiling, taking Harry’s wrists and kissing them right below his palm, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

“Let me sleep,” Harry whines, though he doesn’t want to anymore. 

Louis hums, running his nails over Harry’s palm and lacing their fingers. “Nope.”

Harry sighs, over-dramatically, and puts a hand to his forehead. “Why, Lord, why?” he says, which prompts Louis to snicker, roll his eyes, and bite his shoulder lightly.

“Because I wanna go out today.”

“Today?”

Louis hums in agreement, flicking Harry’s nipple just because he’s bored. 

“Right now?” His voice comes out more high-pitched and breathy than usual because of what Louis’ doing to his nipples.

 _“Yes._ Well, after a shower,” he wrinkles his nose. “You stink.”

“So do you.”

“Obviously. I slept with you wrapped around me like an octopus.”

“Shut up,” Harry snickers. “Where d’you wanna go? And why right now?” 

Louis turns, weight on one of his elbows while his other hand still holds Harry’s. He brings their attached hands up and straightens Harry’s pointer finger with his thumb, keeping their other fingers intertwined. “I wanna buy nail varnish with you.”

Harry looks down. “Why.” It’s a question, but it comes out dull.

Louis thumbs at his nails, smooth with varnish, quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to lie to me, love. You already hide so much of yourself to other people, but not to me. I see how you look at it with – with almost _envy._ And… it’s okay. I like it, too,” he smiles. “You look pretty.”

Harry’s heart is light. Not with love or fear or anything, but with some sort of trepidation, an unnatural airiness, like butterflies but in his chest instead, fluttering around his lungs, and he’s drowning with air, gulping gallons of oxygen with each inhale and yet it’s never enough, but at the same time he’s completely calm. It’s Louis. “I–” his voice has that aspect too, breathy and weak. He swallows. “It’s just something I do sometimes, I guess.”

“And I’m telling you I support you.” 

Harry smiles, incandescent, dimples showing, so hard he has to look away, down at their hands. 

“It’s not weird. It’s you. And I love everything about you.”

“Okay,” Harry says, straining around his stupid-wide smile. “I’d like that. Buying some with you.”

“Good,” Louis kisses his cheek. “I want mine black.”

Harry giggles. “I want mine... blue. Like your eyes.”

“You’re a sap.”

“You’re buying nail varnish because of me!”

Louis makes a face, caught, and changes the subject: “Not if you don’t get up and shower, I won’t,” he taps Harry’s thigh and jumps, taking the duvet with him to the shower, leaving Harry naked and cold but glowing.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog](https://moonshinelouis.tumblr.com/post/613598351029600256/heart-shaped-bruises-by-moonshinelouis-mature) & leave kudos and comments if you liked ♡


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